Not A Black
by Blondie Pants
Summary: Sirius' disownment did not spontaneously happen. What lead up to it?


A story about the events leading up to Sirius' disownment. Enjoy! Reviews are appreciated; I've been working on this for a year.

xXxXxXx

Andy had come to Grimmauld Place to babysit Sirius and Regulus for the day. Sirius was extremely irritated by this, as he was a big boy of seven and needed no babysitter, even if it was his favorite cousin. Determined to sulk, he darted towards his room as soon as the Floo swept his parents out of sight.

"Oh, no you don't." Andromeda had caught hold of his collar. "We're getting out of this gloomy place. Both you boys go put on trousers. We're going to the park to play in the _sun_."

Before they left, Andy explained that they would be playing a game of pretend.

"Mummy doesn't like pretend," Regulus protested.

"Your mummy is wound so tight that I'm amazed she can walk in a straight line."

Sirius grinned, delighted. He wasn't entirely sure what Andy meant, but it sounded rude. His mum approved of rudeness about as much as she approved of pretend.

"Now, we're going to pretend that we're Muggles, okay? And we're going to meet some real Muggles in the park, and we can't tell them about our game."

Sirius nodded enthusiastically. Regulus did to, but only after hesitating for a moment. He looked nervous, and Sirius found that he felt the same way. His mother had reminded them many times that Muggles were like garden gnomes; they were stupid and there were far too many of them. "And they aren't even as useful as house-elves," she'd say.

There were a few other children in the park when they arrived, and Regulus soon forgot to be scared of what their Mum would say if she found out. They raced around, climbed the play structures, and built towers out of the sand. Sometimes Andy joined, and sometimes it was one of the other children's mummies or daddies or nannies. A little boy showed them how to make bridges out of sand to connect the towers they had made, and when they fell, he packed the sand around twigs. Sirius told a little blonde girl that he was a wizard. She giggled and asked if his kisses were magical.

They played for hours, stopping only when the sun finally disappeared and the temperature dropped sharply.

Back home, Sirius and Regulus wolfed down their dinner and went to bed, insisting they weren't tired the whole time. But when Sirius crawled into his bed, he discovered that he was actually very, _very_ tired. He would have to remember tomorrow to ask Mum to let Andy always babysit them. And Muggles were not as bad as Mum always made them sound.

The next thing he knew, his mum's angry shriek was floating up the stairs. He climbed out of bed and tiptoed out to the hall, where he found Regulus doing the same. He put a finger to his lips and the brothers crouched on the landing, listening.

"…_Muggles_, Andromeda! They're only children!"

Andy's voice was calm and firm, the complete opposite of her aunt's. "Exactly. And they hardly know what a Muggle _is_."

"I will not have my sons tainted by Muggle filth!"

Andy never babysat them again. Sirius' mum tried to avoid letting them see her at all, but she could not succeed entirely. The times Sirius spent in Andy's company became his few happy memories of his childhood.

With her help, he began to understand that his parents hated people for being born a certain way, and he didn't think this was very fair. He started seeing that his mother was selfish and spoiled, throwing tantrums when things didn't go her way. Provoking her became a source of great amusement. By age ten, he had lost all respect for her authority, and many of the moments he stole with Andy were spent abusing her. He was absolutely sure that there was nothing wrong with being born a Muggle or Muggle-born wizard, and decided that he did not want to be in Slytherin.

Andy was amused by that. "Don't put so much store in houses," she told him one day. "Plenty of kind wizards have come from Slytherin, brilliant ones from Hufflepuff, brave ones from Ravenclaw and mild-tempered ones from Gryffindor. You know who you are, Sirius, and no crest can tell you otherwise." Sirius decided that she had a point, but he still didn't want to be in Slytherin. Andy herself had just finished Hogwarts from Slytherin, and was secretly dating a Muggle-born named Ted Tonks. She was terrified to tell the family, despite Sirius' encouragement to do so. He couldn't wait to see the shock and horror on everyone's faces. Besides, she was running out of ideas to explain where she was disappearing to most evenings.

During the few years between these discoveries and the beginning of his magical education, Sirius developed a habit of seeing how far he could push his mother. Her jaw would twitch, a vein would pulse in her temple, and her face would turn a fantastic plum color. She never cursed him, however. That was his father's job, when he _really_ went too far. It became a game—how Dark of curses would his father use? Could Sirius give his mother a nosebleed? Yes. Would Regulus take his side, or their parents? Neither. It was a dangerous game, but Sirius enjoyed it.

The summer before he was to begin Hogwarts, the family found out about Andy's Muggle-born boyfriend. Furious, Sirius' mother blasted a hole through the ancient tapestry, to match the others scattered around it, representing all those who had dishonored the name of "Black." After that, no one ever said her name or acknowledged her existence. Sirius continued to send her letters, and found out that she had married him.

Before he knew it, he had a Hogwarts supply list in one hand, and they were buying his materials, and then he was on the train, trading jokes with a skinny, messy-haired boy in glasses who wanted to be in Gryffindor.

During his Sorting, the Hat had seemed to be somewhat amused by this aspect of Sirius' childhood. "Purposefully angering the Blacks, you are definitely brave, boy." It had then chuckled and said, "Remember to exercise a little restraint with your bravery while you're in GRYFFINDOR!" And Sirius had pulled off the Hat and headed towards the Gryffindor table with the beginnings of his trademark swagger, shooting a satisfied smirk at a horrified Bellatrix and other distant relatives, all seated at the table draped in green. Peaky and shabby Remus Lupin had followed him, then short and watery Peter Pettigrew and scrawny James Potter, who intrigued and amused him.

The first time he received a Howler, he waved it proudly around the Great Hall. He imitated the old hag's screech as the letter yelled, something about a prank involving Bella's underwear, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and a stolen Bludger, all the while wishing he knew how to magic his face purple.

Sirius went to great lengths to research and master the Permanent Sticking Charm three years before his classmates. The Ministry could not detect underage magic in their house, so he had no trouble at all plastering his bedroom walls with Gryffindor banners, Muggle posters, and photographs. His mother was not pleased, and spent a large part of his next school year trying to remove them, without success. In weak retaliation, she proceeded to help Regulus cover his walls in Slytherin colors and banners with _"Toujours Pur"_ written all over them.

His Permanent Sticking Charm prowess came in useful in third year, when Slytherin beat them in a Quidditch match. Humiliated Gryffindors moped around until a large banner appeared in the Great Hall, reading "You Snakes May Have Won But Lions Are Still Sexier." The teachers were unable to remove it, and McGonagall ended up Transfiguring it to show the Hogwarts symbol and the school motto. Sirius had a feeling that she may not have tried her best, as the thing was still faintly gold, and he was pretty sure the black ink turned scarlet when you weren't looking.

He went out of his way to fight with Bellatrix. She just got angry so _easily_, and her face would twist into the most fantastic contortions. She dove deep into the Dark Arts, and his petty pranks became nothing next to the curses that she knew. Yet he continued to antagonize her, constantly reminding her that there were some who did not fear her. One of his all-time best pranks was when he slipped her a large dose of Aging Potion. It caused her to look a hundred years old for two weeks, while it stubbornly refused to wear off.

When he discovered how much his mother despised Muggle books about magic, he spent the entire summer after fourth year reading the Lord of the Rings saga. And they were actually quite interesting, with all the battles and arguing about who had the right to what, reminding him, in a way, of his family. He only read in the chair in the drawing room, where she could not miss him no matter how hard she tried. When he wasn't reading, he talked constantly about the plot, emphasizing every detail that made her jaw tick in rage. But at this point in his life, she seemed to have given up yelling at him constantly, and would let her anger build until she exploded, perhaps hoping to scare him into obedience. Instead of being intimidated, Sirius only egged her on more, wondering if he could actually succeed in giving her an aneurysm.

In his fifth year, she rushed to Regulus' bedside in the hospital wing after he had been nailed by a Bludger in a Quidditch match. Sirius just rolled his eyes, it was only a Bludger after all, and the kid had only gotten a minor concussion. It had in fact been Sirius who launched the Bludger and effectively won them the Cup that year. His mother was livid for weeks after that, and Regulus seemed to have a suspicious number of headaches accompanied by malicious smirks. That particular incident was not solely to piss her off; Quidditch was rough and they all knew it. Although, his mother's anger was an added bonus.

Above all, his mother seemed to hate his happiness. So, even when he was entirely miserable in that depressing place he was forced to call home, he skipped and hummed, slid down the bannisters, and flirted with Muggle girls. He pretended to be untouched by the insulting remarks about the blood-traitor, the coward, and the poor brainiac (thank Merlin they didn't know about Remus' condition) that he had befriended, pretended to believe that the occasional Cruciatus Curse "slipped" out of his father's wand. It was slightly easier after he became an Animagus; he could transform and escape into the perpetually happy state that was the dog's existence.

Regardless of how Sirius felt about the rest of the family, he found a strange affection for Regulus. His kid brother could be an idiot, easily manipulated and quick to make friends with those who could protect him, but he was not evil.

Which was why, when Reg caught him leaving one afternoon, Sirius did not lie about where he was off to.

"Where are you going?"

"To buy a motorbike."

"Why a motorbike?"

Sirius shrugged. "To be different. And Mum'll hate it."

He met Mundungus Fletcher a block away from the Leaky Cauldron, in a shaded corner between two buildings. It was clear that wherever Fletcher had gotten this motorbike, it wasn't legal. _Even better_, Sirius thought.

"Well, this _obviously_ isn't completely illegal," he said disdainfully upon arrival. "How you've managed to evade arrest is beyond me, Fletcher, if you think this sort of place is good and hidden."

"You wanted the damn thing."

"Where is it?"

Fletcher tapped the air behind him with his wand and the bike appeared.

It was pitch black and shiny, monstrously huge and one of the most beautiful things Sirius had ever seen. He suppressed a groan of longing and stepped forward to stroke the supple leather seat. "How much?"

"Three hundred."

His hand jumped back. "_Galleons_?" In truth, he had expected Fletcher to ask for at least four. It made no difference to him, he had the wealth of the House of Black at his fingertips. And crooks like Fletcher did not take refunds.

"Of course Galleons, do you know what I went through to get this thing? It has more spells on it than the average racing broom—anti-jinx spells, concealment spells, and it flies—"

"Fine, fine. Two hundred. And only because it flies."

"Boy—"

"Fletcher, I could stay here all day. You, on the other hand, have pockets to pick and Muggles to cheat. So give me the damn bike or let the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department find you."

Fletcher considered him for a moment. "Fine. And you didn't get it from me!"

"As if they wouldn't know anyways," Sirius scoffed, handing over the gold. Fletcher Disapparated with a glare, leaving the bike and Sirius alone in the alleyway.

He threw a leg over the seat and kicked it to life. It rumbled and purred and this time, Sirius let the groan leave him. It was bloody _perfect_…He took off down the street, weaving through the thick traffic and laughing at the please-men, trapped in the congestion. He could go wherever the hell he wanted, and bugger anybody who tried to stop him. They couldn't Apparate after him without knowing where he was going, and no broomstick was fast enough to keep up.

His mother shot out of the house when he drove up with a deafening roar. Already spluttering with rage, his insolent smirk only served to make her angrier.

"_Never…_like a filthy _Muggle_…house of your fathers…" She seemed unable to form a complete sentence. Sirius secured it to the side of the house with several security charms, where Muggles couldn't see it but wizards could.

"_Hide it!_"

He just smirked wider and entered the house with a self-satisfied strut.

If Sirius thought she had blown a gasket when he had stolen Polyjuice Potion and spent an hour pretending to be her and giving Kreacher ridiculous tasks, it was nothing compared to now. Her face was a brighter purple than ever and his favorite vein in her temple seemed fit to burst.

"Sirius, I don't even know where to start," she breathed dangerously. "Do you go out of your way to pull stunts like this?"

He laughed. "I would have thought that was obvious four years ago."

She screamed at him for hours about it. But there was nothing she could do—Sirius' security charms recognized only him. Not that she didn't try to break them, but he had done a very good job. He listened to his mother outside, shrieking curses at it, and pulled out a small mirror from his pocket. "James Potter."

James' face appeared within seconds, looking worried. "Padfoot, what's going on, mate?"

"Listen."

Both boys fell silent for a moment, and Walburga Black's shrill screams transferred through the mirrors. James laughed. "What this time? More books? A bizzare hex on Reg?"

"Better. I got a motorbike. A _flying_ motorbike."

Whatever James had been expecting, it was not that. "A _what_? How?"

"Fletcher."

"Ha! That little sneak. He would."

"I'd better go so she doesn't try to break this. I just wanted you to hear the music."

"Don't forget to conduct, or she might get off rhythm."

And then he was gone and Sirius was staring at his own reflection once more.

Moments later, his mother stomped back into the room. "Get rid of it!"

"No, thanks."

"That wasn't a request!"

He shrugged. "Too bad. I like it."

"You will get rid of it, or you will regret it!"

He laughed darkly. "What are you going to do to me, you old hag? You have _nothing_ on me."

The two sized each other up for several seconds. "When your father gets home…"

Sirius pretended to shiver. "Ooh, now I'm scared." Sarcasm dripped from every word. "Please. Now, if we're done pretending there's a point to me being here…" He turned and left the room, heading upstairs to his bedroom.

He looked around at the clutter. Kreacher never cleaned in here (not that Sirius wanted him to) so the room was easily the messiest in the house. He collapsed on the bed and grinned into his pillow. He had a motorbike and his mother was completely livid. It had been a productive day.

"_Boy!"_

Sirius was woken by his father's furious shout. _Time for round two,_ he thought, and left his bedroom.

His parents were in the drawing room. Regulus was not. He plopped himself into an armchair, looking lazy and bored.

"What?"

"You bloody well know what."

"I'm afraid I don't. Please, enlighten me."

Orion Black's lip curled in a snarl. "You will get rid of the bike."

"Merlin, you two are uncreative. If you're going to waste my time, at least come up with something new."

"I am _done_ tolerating your disrespect, cur!"

Sirius found himself on his feet, blood pounding in his ears and hate coursing through his veins. Hatred. The one thing his parents had managed to teach him. "And I'm done tolerating _you_! Your stupid ideas about Muggles and Muggle-borns, and all this blood supremacy _bullshit_—"

"_Crucio!"_

It wasn't the first time that his father had used the Cruciatus Curse on him, but that didn't make it any less painful. He came to on the floor, without any recollection of how he got there. He climbed to his feet, slightly shaky and trying to hide it.

"Get rid of the bike."

"The bike will be gone by tomorrow."

That appeared to satisfy them. Or, if they understood, they didn't seem to care. Sirius retreated to his Gryffindor-decorated bedroom, ignoring the call to dinner that came half an hour later than usual, and spent the entire evening staring at his ceiling.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he stood up, careful to make no sound, and began putting things in his trunk. Robes, dungbombs, stink pellets, broomstick. Dr. Filibuster's fireworks, a fanged Frisbee, cauldron. The biting teacup that had nearly taken his mother's nose off. Books, untouched since he had unpacked them and nearly forgotten. Parchment and quills. More and more, until he had to sit on the lid to lock it. He waved his wand and whispered a spell to make it shrink small enough to fit in his pocket. It was still heavy, but that could not be helped. He crept down the stairs and out the front door, closing it with a satisfying _click_ behind him.

"I thought you might leave."

He jumped and spun. Regulus was there, leaning against his precious bike. Sirius scowled. "You're not coming with me."

Regulus snorted. "Like I'd want to. Potter's too damn loud."

"And our family isn't?"

"At least that's somewhat entertaining. Potter only thinks he's funny."

"You wouldn't know funny if it bit you in the arse."

"Look, Sirius, why are you leaving? If you just—"

"What, Reg? Pretend to agree? Dance their little blood supremacy dance, just to avoid getting cursed? That's no family I want to be a part of, thanks. Or maybe you didn't hear Dad using the _Cruciatus Curse_ on me. Now move, or I'll jinx you. I want my bike."

Regulus moved, and Sirius lifted the security spells. He rolled the bike away from the wall and mounted it, intending to leave without another word to his little brother.

But then he sighed, and looked back. "Look, Reg. I know that you don't totally believe them and their 'Muggle filth' nonsense. You pretend to, to avoid the treatment I've received, and that's fine. Just don't forget that you're acting. You're better than that, Reg."

Regulus smiled. "See you at Hogwarts, Sirius."

"You'd better learn to see the Snitch, or you're going to come out at the bottom again." He kicked the bike to life and it roared.

"Well, you'd better figure out how to aim those Bludgers!"

"Ask that lump on your head how well I aim!" And with that, Sirius pulled back on the handlebars and shot up, over the houses across the street and away from his parents' house.

xXxXxXx

Walburga Black remembered a time when her firstborn had been a prince in their home. The heir to the great legacy of the House of Black, the next in an unbroken line traceable almost a thousand years into the past. Anything he wanted was his before he could finish asking for it. He had been given the world, and he had spat in her face.

Bit by bit, Mrs. Black found her affection for her eldest waning. She had reinforced the pureblood values that all good wizards should know, and he laughed at them. He had practically skipped around the house, dangling his defiance in her face until her husband snapped.

From that day on, he was no longer her son. No one spoke his name; she even avoided thinking it. In her mind, he was the shame of her flesh, a nasty stain that she hid as best as she could. Out loud, he no longer existed.

Sometime after Regulus had died, she heard about the devastation that the Dark Lord had wreaked upon the little Potter family. The stupid boy that still wore her regal name had been blamed for betraying them. She knew that it was wrong, but she didn't bother to correct them.

As far as she was concerned, he was a terrible stain on the legacy of the House of Black, and Azkaban was the best place for him. He couldn't tarnish the family's honor any further.


End file.
